Checkmate
by icelandes
Summary: i'm not sure what this is...what i do know is that they're playing chess. what i dont know is how to play chess


He rests his cheek on his hand airily, moving his next piece with the flourish of his wrist. His every moment, his every damn breath is so calculated, so exact, it frightens me. Having made his move, he lifts his head, smiling. It sends shivers down my spine, but I know no longer know what kind. When it comes to Ivan, I have no idea how I feel.

But something in his air of calmness, the smile on his face, they way he's acting so damn _calm_ is making me incredibly uneasy, and it begins to gnaw at me.

"Is this some sort of game to you?" I burst out, my hands balling themselves into fists underneath the table.

Ivan looks up, eye brows raised.

"We're playing chess," he says, his broken-dish smile widening. "Of course it's a game."

"No," I said, voice quavering as I move one of my pawns. "Not the fucking chess game. The missiles, the wall. Is it all some game to you?"

His smiled fades as he observes the chess board thoughtfully, carefully analyzing his next move.

"Is it not?" He asks slyly after a moment. When he looks back up at me, the grin is back. It's so vile, so evil, but so inexplicably attractive that every fiber of my being shouts to destroy him, to beat the smile of his damn face. But I don't move. He's playing me, wrapping me around his damn finger and crawling his way under my skin.

"Those are people, Ivan!" I shout, the words jumping off my lips. Gripping the fabric of my pants in a fist, I sigh. "This isn't some sort of chess match. Those are real people."

"Since when did you care about morality?" Ivan shoots back calmly, still looking at the chessboard. "Your economic system is solely dependent on the oppression of others, and you wish to preach to me like a saint of some sort? Surely you see the irony," he adds with a shrug.

My ears grow hot, and I stare at him wildly.

"You've taken over all of Eastern Europe," I hiss. "You've built a wall to keep people in. Your people are starving. Where is it, Ivan? Where is this perfect utopia of equality you've been preaching?"

Ivan looks at me coolly, and I can't tell if he's imaging me dead or naked and pinned under him. Unfortunately, however, I do know which one I am imaging him as.

"The future,"is his only answer, and I can see the uncertainty in the words.

"You've been saying that for twenty years now," I growl, moving one of my knights and claiming one of his pieces.

"The transition from a monarchy to a classless society isn't overnight," he says gruffly. I'm striking a chord with him, I can tell. If he's so insistent on playing mind games, I can stand toe to toe with him.

"From what I can tell, you've just put in place a second king," I say breezily. "You've made no progress in taking it away, either."

Ivan raises his head, looking at me. Now I'm certain he's imaging me dead.

"I know this game you are playing, America," he admonishes, fighting to suppress his anger. "Don't think I do not know."

_America._ It strikes me as funny. He hadn't called me that when I fucked him.

"What game?" I ask, resting my head on my hand and looking up at him.

"You know it well," Ivan assures me. "But you're also aware that you're losing."

"Am I?" I inquire, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Ivan says, making his next move. "Because I've already captured your most crucial piece."

I sit up, my back erect. "And what is that?"

"Your heart," he tells me, the grin once again tugging on his lips.

I stare at him, fumbling for words.

My heart. I almost laugh. Who does this guy think he is? Does he think I love him?

I don't find it funny because of the absurdity of the accusation. I almost laugh because it's funny how right he is.

He stares at me like he just royally kicked my ass in a game of ping pong as he moves, capturing one of my pieces.

Gathering my composure, I move my next piece. "I think you're forgetting that I have yours."

Ivan laughs, bringing his hand up to his mouth as he giggled like a school girl. It was as endearing as it was enraging.

"My heart," he begins after the laughter subsides, "is buried ten feet in the dirt under a patch of sunflowers. I cut it out before you were born." He raises a hand to his chest as afterthought. "I have no heart, quite literally."

My hand curls in on itself as my heart drops to my stomach. The visions rush back, the warmth off his skin as he curled protectively around me, the way his hands flowed down my back as he kissed me, the look in his eyes as he told me he loved me.

"So...," I begin awkwardly, anger gone. "So that night...It meant nothing to you?"

This gives Ivan pause. He looks at me, carefully weighing his next words.

As he thinks, I move my rook and capture one of his knight.

"Mistakes happen," is his response to my prompting stare.

"So it was a mistake?" I inquire, looking at him innocently. Of course it was a mistake, I think in the back of my mind, but I also know it wasn't. There was something there, I was certain of it.

"The biggest of my life." He clears his throat, tugging at his scarf. He was weakening. The wall he tried to put between him and I was crumbling and the power had shifted.

"Good to know," I sigh. "Ya gonna move?"

He shoots me an irritable glare. I've thrown him off. He knew I was right. There was something between him and I, some sort of interminable bond between us. He just didn't want to believe it.

He moves, but it's too quick. He's made a mistake. Quickly, I move and snatch up his piece, smirking.

"You're beginning to lose it, old man," I tell him with a Hollywood smile. "You used to be unbeatable."

He glares at me, violet eyes burning.

"You know," I begin thoughtfully, tapping a finger to my chin. I had found the crack in his armor, and I was going to exploit it. "You were a good fuck. You made the cutest noises. Well, not at first. But I worked them out of you."

Ivan's face is red.

"Shut up," he hisses, burying his face into his scarf a bit.

"What?" I ask, spreading my arms out in a disgusting display of arrogance. "I'm just being honest here."

"I told you to shut up," Ivan barks, moving his piece with uncertainty. It was another mistake, but I don't show I know that. I move my knight, hoping he would fall for the trap.

"You're impossible," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Me?" Ivan asks harshly. "_I'm _the impossible one?"

"Yes," I affirm, looking around the room. My voice dips low. "You know there's something. You can feel it, can't you? Under the layers of disgust, it's there, and you know it."

He stares at me.

"And what is '_it'_?" He demands, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Whatever we have," I say, watching him make his next move. Watching as he falls into the trap.

Calmly and coolly, I capture his king.

"Checkmate."

Ivan stares at the board, confused. He wasn't used to losing chess. And he definitely wasn't used to losing to me.

I smile, grabbing my jacket from the back of my chair as I stand with a stretch.

"You lost," I tell him after a moment as he stares at the board, trying to calculate the ways he went wrong.

He looks up at me, and his glare gives me pause. He wasn't angry about the game. He was angry because he knew I was right.

"Just admit it," I say, collecting myself and shrugging into my coat. "It's been five years, but you know it's still there."

He opens his mouth as if to speak, but I don't wait to hear his response. I don't wait to triumphantly gloat over my victory. I walk away, leaving him alone to realize I am the only person he has left, no matter how much we both hate it.


End file.
